Madrid cafe – September

Two people sit in the sunlight of a cafe.

Woman: When young, people would look to me–I would feel them look to me. On a bus I would not push the button–the button to stop–because I know they were, anyone, look to me. I would ride the bus to the end and then get out and walk. Back. Very far.

A sparrow alights on the table for a moment,

Woman: And if someone–

But the bird flies away. Into the sun which

Woman: Look again to me, I would think and think: This, what means? But then I decide, one day, stop thinking. I will only–when someone look to me, I think, They see something good? Why not? So they look again?

Relaxes on the cobblestone walk,

Woman: It isn’t something for me to think, what this is? I cannot know. So it can be good, the look.

Warming them with its body. A breeze picks up a leaf and

Woman: And what meaning would you have? How will this look mean: I like you, or I never want to wear my hairs like yours? How will I know? To me the look to me is any meaning–why they look to me.

The leaf dances for a moment before the breeze

Woman: This was when I–

Leaves it on the cobblestone. The woman removes her glasses.

Woman: Suddenly people are a blur and their eyes are not known. I don’t give myself so much, so much, small things to weigh and worry. Their eyes. I don’t want to interpret their look to me. What this is? I must push the button. Where am I going? I must go there, not think of the look.

And places them on the table,

Woman: Where am I going? This is enough questions to ask.

Which waits in the sunlight.

THE END